The Passion of The Drunk

I didn't get much sleep last night, so forgive me if I'm a little groggy and lazy this morning. Thankfully, this blog will pretty much write itself today. Mel Gibson, as you may have heard, was arrested for driving under the influence last Friday. Boring, isn't it? Not anymore! Here's an "eyewitness account" of what happened:



"Once inside the car, a source directly connected with the case says Gibson began banging himself against the seat. The report says Gibson told the deputy, "You mother f*cker. I'm going to f*ck you." The report also says "Gibson almost continually threatened me saying he 'owns Malibu' and will spend all of his money to 'get even' with me." The report says Gibson then launched into a barrage of anti-Semitic statements: "F*cking Jews... The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world." Gibson then asked the deputy, "Are you a Jew?" The deputy became alarmed as Gibson's tirade escalated, and called ahead for a sergeant to meet them when they arrived at the station. When they arrived, a sergeant began videotaping Gibson, who noticed the camera and then said, "What the f*ck do you think you're doing?" A law enforcement source says Gibson then noticed another female sergeant and yelled, "What do you think you're looking at, sugar tits?"



I eagerly await his next long and boring condescending biblical snuff film that tells everyone that they're going to Hell.

Maggie

This Friday, August 4th, we'll be at Brogue's in Lake Worth for our Palm Beach County CD Release Party! 21 and up, no cover!

Mentally Disturbed by The Bell

I know you're not supposed to reveal your birthday wish, so I've kept mum since my birthday a couple months ago, but now that my wish has come true, I'd like to share it with all of you. When I blew those candles out, I closed my eyes and wished the following:

"I wish Dustin Diamond would start dispensing sex advice on the internet."

There's a whole column on nerve.com, but I'm just going to post the most colorful segments:



Q: The girl I'm dating constantly brings up her ex in conversation. How can I get her to focus on the present?

A: You got to tap it so good that she falls asleep. If she doesn't fall asleep afterwards, you have no chance. Rock it to sleep, baby. My test is that I'll pop in a movie, but first get her down. If she can watch the movie afterward, I didn't do it right.


Q: My new girlfriend is coming over for the first time. What '90s movie should I rent to ensure that I get laid?

A: The girls I tend to go for like The Crow... [To his girlfriend, Jennifer] What do you think is a romantic movie to bone by? There weren't a lot of good humping movies in the '90s. What about Sliver? Sliver is good. [To Jennifer] We're going to watch Sliver and bone tonight. We're going to tear it up. You're going to hear bones crack.



I'll give all of you a moment to digest this dialogue, gargle with some Listerine, and swear off sex for all eternity.

Maggie

TOMORROW NIGHT, JULY 29th, COME SEE US WITH I AM STEREO AND THE FABULOUS SHUTTLE LOUNGE AT THE POPSCENE 3rd ANNIVERSARY AT DADA IN DELRAY BEACH! GET THERE BY 11PM!

Keeping It Real

Beyonce Knowles says that she channels an inner-diva named "Sasha" in order to free herself from the limitations of being Beyonce Knowles on stage. I'm not sure what those limitations are, but I'm betting one of them is not being able to wear anything on stage that doesn't make her look like she blew a thousand bucks on an outfit at the Swap Shop.

Christina Aguilera also channels an alter-ego: "Baby Jane". She won't give the reasons she arrived at that name, but I'm sure it has something to do with her wearing a diaper and fellating a four foot tall Graffix bong.

When Britney Spears doesn't want to put up with the hassles of being Britney Spears, she insists people call her "Mona Lisa". Nobody gives Mona Lisa shit because according to Britney, "You don't mess with Mona Lisa!!!!" Kill me now.

Keeping with this long-standing tradition of alter-egos, I've decided to channel a woman named "Peggy" when I'm onstage.

Peggy works the graveyard shift at the Denny's in Lake Worth, has one of more tattoos of both Tweety Bird AND Jethro Tull, "pampers" herself by letting her neighbor Tammy give her a Toni home perm once every two months, has seven kids by eight different fathers at home (don't ask me how THAT happened), and a live-in boyfriend named "Chet" who "can't get no steady work" who keeps his half-dead grandmother locked in a closet to keep those Social Security checks rolling in every month so he can afford his yearly trip to Daytona Beach for "Bike Week". You talk about keeping it real? Peggy is as real as it gets motherf*cker!

Maggie

When is The KISS Enema Kit Coming Out?

I awoke wrapped in a KISS sleeping bag from my KISS coffin this morning to the sound of a FedEx driver knocking on my front door. I signed for the package, ripped it open, downed the Kiss Thermos of KISS Demon Dark Roast Coffee that I had overnighted from the KISS Coffeehouse in Myrtle Beach, swept the cigarette ashes that spilled out of my KISS Ashtray onto the new KISS Ceramic Tile Floor I put in last week and disposed of the mess in my KISS Garbage Can, turned off my KISS Night-Light, and got right to work painting my KISS Model Car. Wouldn't you know it but that pest of a neighbor of mine hit his KISS Baseball right through my window and broke my KISS Christmas Ornament Collection! I suppose it could have been worse - he could have been tossing around his KISS Bowling Ball and broken my KISS Chip and Dip Bowl Set then I'd have to hit him up side the head with my KISS Pool Cue!!! LOL!!!! I wish that kid's parents would have used a KISS Paul Stanley Condom - then I would have to trip over his KISS Jack-in-the-Box in my yard everyday!

Gene Simmons is getting a reality show called "The Family Jewels". Hope you have your KISS Fire Helmet on. It's gonna be HOT!

(I would like to add that I did not make up a single item here. This is actual KISS licensed merchandise. And for this reason, and for the shitty power ballad "Forever", I hate KISS.)

Maggie

Abusin' Together

I don't like to brag, but I consider myself somewhat of an expert when it comes to cameo appearances in films by Huey Lewis. I used to have really useless knowledge swimming around my head, like trigonometry and physics, but I went through an experimental procedure years ago to remove any knowledge of these worthless subjects to make room for more important things, i.e. cameo appearances in films by Huey Lewis. Some people called this experimental procedure "A Ben Affleck Movie Marathon", but I prefer to leave the fancy technical terms to my doctor and his staff of buxom TV Guide nurses.

If you remember the film "Duets", then you no doubt can recall the Huey Lewis/Gwyneth Paltrow karaoke duet of "Cruisin' Together". We found out that, aside from being able to bore the crap out of all of us, she could actually carry a tune.

FOX is trying to recreate this Huey Lewis moment by airing a reality show starting next month called "Duets". The show will feature singers such as Cyndi Lauper, Patti Labelle, Aaron Neville, and Kenny Loggins paired with "non-singing celebrities" in a duet singing competition. It's sort of like American Idol, but instead of seeing someone like Kelly Clarkson win a record contract, we'll get to see someone like Elizabeth Berkley try to make it through a duet of "Somewhere Out There" with Brian McKnight and NOT vomit up a pile of pills and accost him with her vagina when she tries and fails to hit the high notes. This is what I like to call "Quality Television". I can only hope it won't be on the same night as Rock Star Supernova. I don't want to get all blown out from the sensory overload.

Maggie

We've got a show this Saturday at DaDa for the Popscene 3rd Anniversary Party along with I Am Stereo and The FABULOUS Shuttle Lounge. You are such a loser if you miss it. That goes for you too, grandma.

Make Yourself Useful, People

I'm not entirely sure of the exact moment that Tara Reid became Nick Nolte with fake tits, but I'd like to extend my hand to her in appreciation for all of the blog postings she's contributed to merely by existing. I mean, it's not that she's disgusting, it's that she's SO disgusting that she makes Paris Hilton look like Shirley Temple taking a bath in Purell by comparison. She's everything that's wrong with the entertainment business all wrapped up into one saline-bumpified mystic-tanned shiftless lay-about...

The poster child for having your liposuction done in some guy's garage in Guadalajara with a hacksaw blade and a Hoover vacuum...

The personification of a clearance rack in the "Adult Section" of the back of a van of novelty gifts at the Swap Shop...

A walking genital wart with opposable thumbs...

The used tacky cloth strips of Christina Aguilera's most recent Brazilian wax...

The transparent skin that forms on top of the KFC Li'l Bucket Parfait of Skankdom.

I got away from myself there for a minute. If you have any fantastic Tara-isms you'd like to boast - please let me know so the rest of us can bask in your hatefulness. I expect nothing less than literary confection-perfection from both Tom and Wilkins, so don't disappoint me, boys. Feeling crushed under the weight of writer's block? Here's a dandy of a pic to inspire you:






You're welcome.


Maggie

We'll be at DaDa this Saturday, July 29th, for the Popscene 3rd Anniversary Party. Don't miss it!

The Worst Celebrity Story I've Heard All Year

TMZ is the worst celebrity website on the planet. If they get a video clip of Lindsay Lohan putting money in a parking meter, it's their top story for the day. In short, they blow, and this story is no exception:



Christina Trades Ring in Nipple for Ring on Finger

"Now that she's a married woman, pop diva Christina Aguilera has apparently completely freed herself of a ring in her right areola, according to photographic evidence painstakingly analyzed by Lloyd Grove this morning. Two years ago, Aguilera told the press that she'd ditched all of the metal gear that was impaling various parts of her anatomy, like her tongue, lip, and navel, but that the one in her right nipple was for her and was staying. But yesterday in Paris, says Grove, Aguilera was photographed in a sheer top, and there was no sign of the stud."



I'd like to meet this guy whose job is to "painstakingly" detect the existence of nipple rings on Christina Aguilera. What are his credentials? I don't want to seem like a Jealous Jilly here or anything, but I spent a good six years at Vassar getting my master's degree in Aguilera Nippleography, and I DEMAND to know why I wasn't called in on this one. It was bad enough that I got turned away from the "Lady Marmalade" video shoot because my labia weren't hanging out enough, but this is just a slap in the face. How far do you think you can push me? Do you want me to see Maggie on 10?! Because I don't think you want to see Maggie on 10!!!!!! The last person who saw Maggie on 10 was Chevy Chase when he called Maggie a "Low-Rent Ruth Buzzy", and you saw what happened to that motherf*cker!

Don't mess with me.

Maggie

These Five Words I Swear To You

I would have posted this yesterday, but I've been drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Colon Clenz since I heard the news that Dave Navarro and Carmen Electra have split up.

I mean, just when you start to believe in true love, something like this happens, and you're just left wandering the streets shirtless with a feather boa and your eyeliner running down your face while your tears mingle with the seven necklaces you're wearing and turn your neck green - and right at that moment - Perry Farrell drives by you, throws a Porno for Pyros CD at your oversized head and laughs and laughs and laughs as he speeds away. You retreat to The Roxy where you find Bobbi Brown from the Cherry Pie video and rest your weary Wolverine head upon her silicone pillows until you wake in the morning to an overweight Jani Lane from Warrant kicking you in the head with a sizeable pair of leather studded Hush Puppies then, just when you think you hit rock bottom, Tawny Kitaen pulls up in 1987 Jaguar and spits on you. You freebase the spit and squeak through another day of your horrific over-accessorized existence in the hope that Tommy Lee is just a pay-phone call away tomorrow, ever-ready with a gift certificate to the Piercing Pagoda so the new holes in your ear cartilage can show the world the new hole in your heart. If that doesn't do it, being forcibly removed from the next Pussycat Dolls performance while screaming, "Your cooter always did smell like Dennis Rodman, you whore!!!!!!" should do it.

Carry on, Dave Navarro. Carry on, old friend. I'll be there for you. These five words I swear to you.

Maggie

Caligula Hilton

I feel like I'm doing a disservice to society by even writing about this, but it's SO bad, society will just have to figure out a way to deal with it. Brace yourselves. There's not just one, but TWO brilliant new Paris Hilton quotes:

"“I think every decade has an iconic blonde — like Marilyn Monroe or Princess Diana — and right now, I’m that icon."

Okay, I'll bite. Part of being an icon is not actually referring to yourself as an icon. It's the equivalent of telling people that you're "classy" which, incidentally, means you have no class. I'm sure that Princess Diana is smiling down from above thinking, "Wow. I guess I shouldn't have spent all that time with those orphans in Africa. I could have just danced on top of a table at Hyde and shown my cooter on the internet and left the same impression on the world. OMG!!!! LOL!!!!!!!"

And here's the literal and figurative number two:

"I play dumb like Jessica Simpson plays dumb. But we know exactly what we’re doing. We’re smart blondes.”

The only reason she's reaching for the big dumb gun, i.e. Jessica Simpson, in order to defend her own empty-headed, shallow, disgusting, amoral, spoiled, sickening, nauseating antics is because she obviously skipped history class the day they talked about Caligula. As a matter of fact, I'm considering changing the band name to Caligula Hilton right now.

Smart blondes. If they're smart then I'm Nick Lachey's balls.

Maggie

Your Number One Desperation Station

People think they know the meaning of the word "desperation".

Some think that desperation is when you're really excited that you got a call-back for that Summer's Eve stinky cooter commercial, or worse, a walk-on role on "The World According to Jim".

Some think that desperation is posing for Swank after your short-lived relationship with Robbie Bensen, further certifying your entrance into the handjob-hustling portion of Dirk Diggler's life.

Some think that desperation is winning a Teen Choice Award for "Best Hissy Fit in a Movie" (I'm not making that category up) and actually being happy about it as you stagger your coked-up corpse to the podium and thank a crowd of 12 year olds for worshipping you instead of Hilary Duff, if even for a moment. The last I heard, a Teen Choice Award for "Best Hissy Fit in a Movie" was worth approximately two seconds of fame, and negative three seconds of cred. Don't look at me like that, Jason Biggs. You know the score.

All that aside, I'm sure some of you still aren't one hundred percent sure that you know what real, true desperation is, so if you weren't able to traverse the previous paragraph without moving your lips while you read, I'll make it really easy for you. THIS is desperation:







Yes. Now we just have to sit and wait for the visible mouth-lesions to develop. I'm setting my timer for approximately 15 minutes.



Here's some more flaming fun I had over the weekend from the Rock Star Supernova message boards. The subject of "Dave Navarro Needs to Put a Shirt On" is apparently still going.

Message #11 - Posted by Queeniebaby on 07/13/06 01:26 PM

Ditto. Dave needs to be shirtless as often as possible! He is wicked sweet! I want to lick him all over. Hey, do you know if Dave is still shaving his armpits??? I thought it looked like the hair is back.



Message #12 - Posted by bluestar on 07/13/06 05:03 PM

It would be just fine with me if he let his left nut hang out. Like I said, he can come to work naked if he wants to. Who cares, RiotMag? Lighten up...even God took a day off.



Message #13 - Posted by RiotMag on 07/14/06 12:07 PM (THAT'S ME!)

....even God took a day off?

And look what happened. Did you see the lineup of contestants this year?

Oh, and before I finish gagging, I should respond to this from Queeniebaby...
"Ditto. Dave needs to be shirtless as often as possible! He is wicked sweet! I want to lick him all over. Hey, do you know if Dave is still shaving his armpits??? I thought it looked like the hair is back."

RiotMag:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

Thanks. I needed that.



Maggie

Show This Saturday!

Timb's Birthday Show has been moved from The Hideout in Boca Raton to Duck Soup in Ft. Lauderdale (Oakland Park Blvd and Powerline). Check out the schedule, show starts at 9PM:

Brent Indeed
Katie Foley
Timb and His Band of Erics
Zombies Organize!
The Freakin' Hott

No cover, cheap beer, pool tables (so you can pretend you're Tom Cruise in The Color of Money back when we all still had some kind of respect for him before he went to live with the aliens), a parking lot for you to throw up in (to make your Nicole Richie impersonation that much more believable), and a gaggle of groupies (be sure to bring your own shark).

Today I will leave you with the greatest movie quote of all time. If you'd care to take a guess at the movie title and the actor, please do so and win no prize.

"Chicks dig me because I rarely wear underwear, and when I do, it's usually something unusual."

Maggie

The Popozao of Our Discontent

In order to properly explain the most recent quote from Kevin Federline, I need to grab a page from the script of Pee Wee's Big Adventure:

Francis: You're crazy.
Pee Wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis: You're a nerd.
Pee Wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis: You're an idiot.
Pee Wee: I know you are, but what am I?
(In unison)I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what
Am I? I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I?
Pee Wee: Infinity!

Francis: I'm not, you are.
Pee Wee: You are.

Francis: No way!
Pee Wee: No way!

Francis: Knock it off!
Pee Wee: Knock it off!

Francis: Cut it out!
Pee Wee: Cut it out!

Francis: Shut up!
Pee Wee: Make me.

Francis: Why don't you make me?

Pee Wee: Because I don't make monkeys,I just train them.

Francis: Remember when I first saw your bike?
You rode past my house, and I ran out
to tell you how much I liked it.

Pee Wee: I love that story.

(Pee Wee rides off on bike)

Francis: (Yelling) You'll be sorry, Pee-wee Herman!

(Pee Wee begins doing tricks on bike, swings his legs out to either side, puts his feet on handlebars, loses control of bike, bike crashes in yard, Pee Wee falls off into a somersault in the lawn and stands up to address several children standing nearby.)

Pee Wee: I meant to do that.

Now that the Metaphor Stage has been set, here's K-Fed's quote:

"At first, when I put out PopoZao, people were kinda laughing at me. I did it on purpose so people would look at me exactly the way they did. That way, when I come out with my real shit, people are f*cking blown away."

Um. Yeah. Hmm. Allright, show of hands - who actually believes this bullshit?

Maggie

Girls Gone REALLY Wild

Joe Francis, the "Girls Gone Wild" guy, was punched in the face by an unidentified woman over the weekend at a Hollywood nightclub. I was really hoping that I was the one who did it, but it turns out I was nowhere near California this past weekend. Had it actually been me, I wouldn't have gone for something as easy as a punch in the face though. I would have constructed something similar to the "Mouse Trap" board game, only instead of having a plastic net fall down over him, I would have a pair of robotic hands pull his pants down and snap a picture while a gigantic steel boot kicked him in the jimmies. Then I would have an army of amateur strippers on roofies bludgeon him with their big fake knockers, making it the most poetically-justified ironic beat-down ever. I would, of course, film it the whole time so I could sell it on TV as "Girls Gone REALLY Wild - The Extreme Testicle Makeover Edition".

Either that or I would make him sit on a toilet seat that had been recently used by Paris Hilton. I don't know about that, though. That's pretty mean.

Maggie

Come See Us with Journey and Def Leppard!

With all the last minute details of getting prepared for the CD Release Show tomorrow night at The Poorhouse, we almost forgot to mention that we'll be opening the show at the Sound Advice Amphitheatre in West Palm Beach for Journey and Def Leppard this Monday, July 10th, at 7:30pm. Tickets are still available through Ticketmaster.

I'm not kidding. Don't ask ... and don't stop believin'.

Hold on to that feelin'.

Maggie
TFH

Review in New Times Magazine!!

THIS JUST IN:

Album Review from New Times Magazine
by Jason Budjinski, Music Editor

Finally. After years of proving their worth on many a local stage, Palm Beach County's Freakin Hott have taken their tunes to disc; the wait was well worth it. The trio's brand of raw, guitar-driven, male-female-sung rock loses nothing in this studio translation. If anything, the fact that you can actually hear the vocals (not just a muddied nightclub version of them) makes this ten-track album worth seeking out — ten tracks worth of big-ass, '70s-style guitar riffs mixed with catchy, bittersweet power-pop and a dash of country. There are no clever ProTools tricks, just an attempt to capture the band as it really sounds, which is, of course, pretty freakin hott.

The album's opener, "Ayuss Grayuss" (as in "Ass, gas, grass"), and second track, "Brass Snatch," get things going in a straight-up, no-fucking-around fashion — the best way to open any rock 'n' roll album. The third track, "Rotten Apple," takes a turn into pop territory, with Maggie and Aaron playing their vocals off one another in pure '60s fashion. "Old Weird America" rolls along slowly and steadily, painting a landscape of Americana in all its emotionally conflicting glory. "Love/Hate" takes it back to the garage with a fuzzed-out, Motor City-styled jam. The album closes on a soft note with the gentle, drum brush-driven "Killer's Moon." Want a live preview? The Freakin Hott holds a free CD-release party with I Am Stereo at 8 p.m. Friday, July 7, at the Poor House (110 SW Third Ave., Fort Lauderdale, 954-522-5145).

Review in City Link Magazine!

Our first record review has rolled in for "Slip on The Lips" - From this week's edition of City Link Magazine, by Dan Sweeney.

Slip on The Lips
by The Freakin' Hott
www.thefreakinhott.com

This album should have its own category above "The Good": it's in a class by itself. This is one of the few CDs by a local band that continually finds a place in my CD player long after the first spin. And since all the others in that category came out before I had a column, it's safe to say this is the best local album I've heard in the two-plus years I've been doing this. The disc's most notable feature is its absence of filler. From the opener, "Ayuss Grayuss." which celebrates the old "Ass, grass or gas" bumper sticker, through the gorgeous, countrified, confesssional closer, "Killer's Moon," every song is a gem. Standout cuts include ... everything. If you love indie rock, alt-country, sleazy-sexy glam or just damn good songwriting, buy this album. It's the real deal. (The band's CD-release party will take place 11pm Friday at the Poor House in Fort Lauderdale.)

- Dan Sweeney, City Link


WOW! Thanks, Dan! City Link has been so kind to us from the very beginning, and we couldn't be more appreciative! Pick up a copy today!

Maggie

Waiter, There's a Love Gun in My Latte!

I woke up this morning and said to myself, "You know what I need to start the day right? No, no, no - I don't just need coffee. Coffee is so yesterday it's not even funny LOL!!!!! I need something I can identify with. Something that speaks to my lifestyle and devil-may-care musical preferences. I don't want grandpa's morning beverage, I want ROCK 'N ROLL COFFEE, MOTHERF*CKER!!!!! (insert shreddery here)"

Thankfully I had twelve hours or so to drive to Myrtle Beach, SC to go to the grand opening of the KISS Coffeehouse where I had to painstakingly choose between a KISS Frozen ROCKaccino and a KISS Demon Dark Roast. I briefly considered getting a sprinkle of SIMMONSmon on top of my ROCKaccino, but thought better of it when I read the ingredients and saw that it contained traces of syphilis and REAL sugar! Hello? Have these people heard of The South Beach Diet?!!! Then I threw caution to the wind and ate a KISS Rip Screaming Diarrhea Bran MOFO-in AND a Hot CRISS bun and excused myself to the VOLCANIC ROCK LAVAtory and, well, YOU know. I awaited my Frehley's Comet with anticipation and stared up at the "Paul Stanley Exhaust Fanley" while I, like many others before me, paid the gastro-intestinal price for rocking and rolling all night, not to mention partying all day.

Maggie